


And to All a Good Night

by agent_florida



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash is left horribly confused by what just happened to him, and Maine and York are still frustrated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And to All a Good Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And Good Will Toward Men](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15297) by vadadaca. 



Oh, God.  
  
What had just happened?  
  
Wash stumbled out of York’s room into the darkened hallway, feeling completely sober and totally confused. He didn’t know what he had hoped for when he had knocked, but he knew that what had just happened had been nothing like he expected. He walked back to his own room, almost on auto-pilot, trying to process the night’s events.  
  
Acting ridiculous in the hopes that York or Maine would notice and help ‘take care’ of his ‘drunken’ self? Check. Seeing them sneak out of the room as he put a cap on easily one of the silliest things he had ever done? Check. Walking in on them wrestling one another on York’s bed? Double check. Both of them stopping what they had been doing to pay attention to him?  
  
That was where everything started getting fuzzy and surreal. He reached his room, and once he shut the door behind him, he leaned against it, sighing. Whatever it had been, it had felt fantastic. He was pretty sure that nothing else in his life could feel better than having his cock worshipped by the two men he had wanted to seduce since practically his first day as a Freelancer. And, if possible, he felt even better mentally than he did physically. He had been able to frustrate York and Maine to the point where they had been willing to work together. It was almost inconceivable, but they had done it.  
  
But emotionally, he still felt like shit, and he let his knees give out as he sank to the floor, propped up against the door. Before everything had gotten all surreal, Maine had said something about another agreement that he and York had reached: agreeing that neither one of them could fuck him. And, if possible, that one fact negated every kind of pleasure he had just received. They seemed perfectly fine with the violent tussle they had been engaged in before he had walked in on them. And they refused to either let him join the party or pick whomever he wanted?  
  
A thump came through the floor, and he cursed his life that his room was right above York’s. He didn’t want to think about what the two Freelancers must have been doing in there, but images rose to his consciousness, completely uncalled for and yet oh-so-alluring.  
  
 _the little flick of Maine’s tongue as he licked the cum from his lips, that same tongue teasing at his neck_  
  
The only reminder that he had that anything had actually happened was his own sticky cock between his legs, and Wash just hoped he had been too taken by the previous events (oh, God, they had actually happened) to get another hard-on tonight.  
  
 _the feeling of two mouths on his cock, one after the other, slightly different in shape but no different in intensity, and slobbering lips running up and down his length_  
  
Nope. It was stirring under his memories, and when he heard the next thump from the floor below him, it wasn’t just the memories that were stirring in his head. He swore his imagination had never been quite so vivid before, but there it was, clear as day in his head.  
  
 _the arch in York’s back as he fought to get out from under Maine, the sound of skin slapping against skin as they wrestled for any hold over the other, rough whispers of competition_  
  
God damn it, even after he had just been blown dry, his cock seemed to want Round Two. He looked down at the bulge in his fatigues, groaning as much from embarrassment as from arousal, and knew, with yet another thump (this time accompanied by a shout), that he would have to take care of this. Now, preferably, his cock seemed to tell him, and his imagination went on overdrive again.  
  
 _what it would feel like to have Maine’s large body behind him, overwhelming him, pressing into him, reaching around him, sliding against him_  
  
He knew, pulling himself out through his fly, that this would last a long time. He would hate himself for every minute that he was doing this, every minute that he wasn’t interrupting the obvious sex taking place below him. He wanted to be there still, wanted to be fought over and worshiped and taken care of in that obnoxious needy way, or maybe it would only take one of them.  
  
 _what York would sound like as Wash sucked his throat, flicked his nipple, gripped his biceps, clutched his hands, fisted his cock, allowed him inside, watched him come_  
  
He stroked himself almost leisurely, knowing the sensation couldn’t compare to what had just happened but needing another release nonetheless. His eyes were closed just like they had been not ten minutes ago, but this was so different. That had been needy, desperate, quick and nearly violent; this was lazy, a dull ache still present after the sharp lust was gone, more of an inner need than an outer one.  
  
 _pressed into York’s chest by Maine’s weight on them all, his tongue tasting the inside of York’s mouth while Maine fucked him nonchalantly, his leaking cock rutting against York’s abs as he gripped onto something, anything, York's hair, even, to stay sane, stay in the moment_  
  
Now there was a possibility. His slow strokes sped up, one by one, until he was jerking off at a pace he had never needed before, thinking of three bodies tangled up in one tiny bed, two other mouths for him to kiss, one huge bundle of aching heat inside him that refused to abate until…  
  
He had come wordlessly before, the orgasm hitting him in less time than it took him to exhale, but this time, it wasn’t so easy. He let out an anguished sound close to a sob, his eyes screwed shut, knowing that his cum was going to stain his clothing, knowing that he should have stood up for himself, knowing that the two people he had wanted the most had chosen each other to fuck instead of him.  
  
Well. Fuck. It hadn’t even made him feel any better, just worse: dirty, and used, and pathetic, and most of all jealous. He let his head fall back against the door, once, twice, three times, each time making a knocking sound and forcing his brain to jiggle in his skull. This was not how tonight was supposed to go, and he felt totally and utterly defeated.  
  
He had already left the party, and there was no chance of going back there with the agitated state he was in right now. He sighed as he stood on shaky legs, stumbling towards the shower, wanting to feel clean but knowing that he’d settle for at least not being physically filthy before he fell asleep.  
  
\---  
  
York thought he was about to explode.  
  
At least he and Maine had agreed on one thing: no fucking Wash. Not yet. Not until they could decide this in some fair way. Unfortunately, the blowjob contest they had just competed in had left the victory undecided, Wash losing it while both of their mouths had been on him, so… now what? “Well, that went well, I think,” he said, trying to cut through the silence in the room now that Wash had fled.  
  
“It did,” Maine agreed. Looking over at him, York could see the other Freelancer glancing down at the bulges that both of them still had in their pants (how could they not, after seeing Wash so vulnerable, so willing to let go in front of them?). “Pick up where we left off, then, before the interruption?”  
  
York nodded, leaning over to whisper against Maine’s lips. “And you’re bottoming.” That would settle the question. He was playing for keeps, and whoever submitted would have to wait his turn to have Wash.  
  
“Like hell,” Maine said right back. And almost before York could process it, the bigger Freelancer had tackled him, holding his wrists out from his sides and using his body weight to pin him to the floor.  
  
Being a Freelancer generally meant accepting a lot of pain. Between the constant physical pressures of their missions, they also tried hard to keep in shape with reps of push-ups, pull-ups, laps in the swimming pool and on the track, and sometimes even in the boxing ring. But York wasn’t any ordinary Freelancer. It wasn’t just that he accepted the pain. He relished in it, enjoying every bit of anguish he could put his body through, and as much as he hated to admit it some days, it made him hot to know how much his body could withstand, how strong he was, how much the pain affected him.  
  
So when his skull cracked against the hard floor of the room as Maine’s lips reattached themselves to his neck, his mind was screaming out to him in a hundred different ways. The  _fuck yes_  was from the slight pressure of Maine’s crotch against his as he nestled closer to him. The  _oh God_  was from the weight on him, forcing the breath out of him, somewhere between painful and pleasurable. And the  _fuck no_ was from the fact that the pain of being slammed into the floor and the vulnerability of being pinned was turning him on more than he ever wanted Maine to know. He settled for a groan as the other Freelancer swiped his teeth against his jawline, pressing his hips upwards in the hopes of meeting some friction.  
  
Struggling wasn’t winning either of them any purchase on the other, though Maine’s larger build was pointing towards York getting fucked tonight, so York went for the element of surprise. He lashed out with his mouth, biting and sucking at Maine’s collarbone, the one part of his body that he could reach easily from his vulnerable position. This time, it was Maine making delicious noises of submission, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the periphery of York’s vision. Their hips bucked together again, and as their bulges bumped against one another, they both sighed, delighting in the friction.  
  
It was just the admission York needed to get the upper hand on the situation. He used his legs to push himself off of the floor, flipping both of them over so that Maine was now on his back. York didn’t have the arm strength to keep Maine’s hands from roaming, so instead he concentrated on what he knew best: getting the other Freelancer to submit. One of his hands reached out to pinch a nipple; the other one roamed down, undoing first the button and zip on Maine’s fatigues and then his own, wriggling against the other man so that he could get their trousers down far enough to get to where he wanted to go. His free hand pushed past Maine’s sac and danced across his perineum, forcing him to spread his thighs so he could reach the puckered hole he so badly wanted to fuck. When he pressed a finger against him, Maine practically howled, either through frustration or pleasure, and there was a cracking noise as his head fell back against the floor.  
  
But as York worked a finger inside the bigger Freelancer, Maine’s huge hand managed to snake between the two of their bodies, held so closely together, and free both of their cocks, grasping them both at once. York couldn’t tell if it was one moan or two that was echoing in his ears, but this…  
  
Wow.  _This._  Of all the things he had ever done, he had never been with a man who had hands large enough to pump two guys at once, and the feeling was…  _wow._  Not only was his shaft sliding against knobbly fingers, but another organ was pressing up against his, a familiar part of the male anatomy and yet a sensation that he had never had before. Soft skin over a member as hard as his…  
  
Maine let out a grunt as York pressed the tip of his finger against his prostate, and he looked into the other Freelancer’s face to see that he had screwed his eyes closed, his mouth open and letting his breath out in short, tight bursts. York worked his finger in a small circle, and there that sound was again. The grip on his cock became almost intolerable, treading the line between pleasure and pain, just how York liked it.  
  
And then, unexpectedly, Maine let out a “gahhhhh” as his cock pulsed against York’s, the shame on his face evident for a split-second before York looked downwards to see  _holy god that’s a lot of cum_ splattering itself against Maine’s hand and abs. The little twitching that York could feel right up next to his own cock sent him over the edge, making an indecent whimper as he spilled himself prematurely.  
  
It took a few moments for them to disengage, York pulling his finger out from inside Maine, Maine letting go of their spent organs, both of them peeling their sticky bodies apart. “That… wasn’t exactly what I expected,” Maine admitted quietly as York fell next to him.  
  
“Tell me about it.” He was slightly out of breath, refusing to admit that that had just happened. Not only had Maine caught on to his kinks, but neither of them had managed to top the other, still leaving the question undecided on who won Wash.  
  
Maine picked up on his selective silence. “This is probably going into Round Two.”  
  
“Yeah,” York admitted, trying to anchor himself against the floor and keep from trembling. “Not because I like you or think you’re a good lay or anything, though. Don’t get excited.”  
  
“Nope,” Maine agreed. “It’s all about Wash. Yep, Wash. Always about him.”  
  
Maine wasn’t a good liar. York was looking forward to forcing him to tell the truth. And fucking him up the ass. Whichever came first, really. And so York just smiled as he looked over at the other Freelancer, who was looking back with exactly the same conspiratorial smirk on his face.


End file.
